This New Thing
by WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: He always falls back into old habits. But even when everything tells him Elizabeth is not right for him, he cannot turn away. AJ Quartermaine and Elizabeth Webber. *SPOILERS*


**Warning: Some salty language, and spoilers, possibly, for next week! If you're spoiler-free, check back in with this story after the 9th. For the Flash Fiction weekly challenge on the Start Again fan forum. **

**#**

**Flash Fiction #1: Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. ~~ Albert Einstein**

**This New Thing**

He is home, although anticipating the reactions of Port Charles to his return from the dead, he questions his move.

Yet, he cannot turn back now. He has a son to build a relationship with. He is in his longest period of recovery, as he has been clean and sober for years now. He also has a company seat to claim.

The first person he sees is his mother. He waits for Aunt Tracy to leave, because hell, he does not need that agitation. Also, there is the very real possibility that Tracy will have him arrested, and then he will never have the chance to get to know Michael.

So he finds Monica, his mother. He embraces her, wipes away her tears over Jason. He will have time to remember his brother and everything he lost later. For now, though, it is enough to find his way back into the mansion again.

Home sweet home, they say.

Although whoever said that never met the Quartermaines.

#

When he sees Elizabeth Webber for the first time, decked out in her nurses' scrubs with her auburn hair spilling down her back in long waves, he is flooded with a million thoughts, all memories of the past.

They are memories of her and Emily running around the Q mansion, of her and Emily, Nikolas and Lucky, studying and getting into assorted mischief, of Emily finding happiness with her best friend, so much like a sister to her, giving her another family after losing her own.

He also remembers overhearing Emily and his mother talk about Elizabeth. Emily had been crying, her voice shaking with terror, her eyes red rimmed, and he heard the name Tom Baker, and blackmail, and Elizabeth holding him at bay with a gun until he could be arrested. He remembers finding out later that Baker was the one who attacked Elizabeth Webber in a park so long ago.

His heart hurts for her. He knows much of her story, and she does not even realize it.

Her eyes stare at him with barely concealed contempt, although, Elizabeth's version of contempt is about a thousand times more compassionate than the rest of Port Charles.

"It's good to see you…" He tries to be kind, soft and nice to her at first, because she has this strong link to the best of his past, of people he'd actually like to remember. He realizes that, upon seeing her for the first time in God knows how long, she's far more striking than he remembered, and he may have, kind of, flirted. A little bit.

Once Starr Manning leaves, Elizabeth is all "Lizzie Webber," what Emily affectionately called her back in the day, wielding a sharp needle and caustic tongue.

"Every time you came home from rehab, every time you were begging for forgiveness, Emily would tell me, and she believed it, that you had changed. So, what's different about this time?"

Getting someone else to patch him up hurts, but only for a little bit as she returns and tries not to judge. She does not look at him, but he is not one to miss an opportunity when it presents itself. When she apologizes to him for being so hard, it is all he can do to not drop to his knees and thank the gods that finally, _finally_someone he's not connected to by blood doesn't outright hate him.

It is when Elizabeth tells him Jason apologized for keeping him from Michael, though, that changes everything. In that single moment, she has given his brother back to him. Though Jason is gone now, he can feel him in his heart.

"Here," he says, offering her the only copy of the picture he has of him and Jason together before the accident, "take it." She declines, but he insists. It is of Jason and himself in a better time, in a better place before the fall. He wishes she knew him then, but maybe the picture will help her see that he is not the sum of his crimes.

That he is capable of far more, and far better.

#

In many ways, he really deserved a bitch like Nikki Langston.

He had a pattern of lashing out, of hurting others. Nancy Eckert, Julia Barrett, everyone whoever claimed to love him… He disappointed them. He always disappointed them. It was his birthright, standing in stark contrast to his brother. Jason was the pure, the good. Even as a hitman, he was always somehow better.

However, AJ Quartermaine was evil. He was the criminal, the worst. He represented everything decrepit and rotten about his family. Although he had his moments where he shined, the devil always came beckoning, and he always followed.

Nikki entered into his life, a con artist, and of course he fell for her hard. So hard. She wasn't in love with him, more probably like lust, and she was willing to take the Quartermaine money. All at the cost of his heart.

He chased her across the country, when he had no expectation that she would come back to him. On their long walk on the beach next to her summer house, paid by the money given to her by his father, she told him she was married.

He had to move on, which is what he did. Toward a bar. He filled a heavy-bottomed glass with vodka, no ice, no lime. Just straight up and burning in his gut, the symbol of his failures as a man.

It was his pattern. Fuck up. Drink. Fuck up. Drink a whole lot more. Nothing else changed.

There wasn't any conflict or questioning in this barstool, the floor underneath littered with peanut shells, used napkins, and cigarette butts. He drank his vodka, and another, and another, his glass carving a circle in the dusty wooden counter.

#

Ever since that day in December when Elizabeth Webber patched him up, he finds his thoughts turning to her rather unexpectedly.

He remembers the way her expression shifted, visibly, as she treated his wounds, moving from anger, to indifference, to understanding. It was when she told him how she hurt Jason just before his death that he understood Elizabeth more fully. She was a flawed human being, haunted by her mistakes, some of which she will never be able to make right.

He hopes his words assuages her guilt, allows her to forgive herself. Of all people, he is in the unique position of knowing what that constant, gnawing feeling of doubt and self-hate feels like, the itch that cannot be placated of knowing some transgression he wrought will never be made right. The last thing he wants is for her to feel the way he did, the way he does.

Somehow, thanks to his mother, embarrassingly enough, they tentatively find a path to friendship, something independent, but still connected to their pasts.

Then he has a panic attack.

In the middle of the shaky, panting, sweating haze, he sees Elizabeth's sweet face. Everything is a fog, all muddled thoughts and fear that she is wrong, that he is really having a heart attack, that he will die and everything he's done for Michael will all be for nothing.

But he focuses on her, the freckle on her lip, and her eyes, liquid blue and clear like a freshwater lake under a cloudless sky.

She tells him to just breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth, to slow down, to take care of his health. There is something about her that centers him, he discovers, as he takes a few deep, calming breaths. Elizabeth also manages to give him a friendly ear when he vents about ELQ and Sonny.

"I also know how it feels to be disappointed in yourself, and if you give into it, it'll only get worse. You have to rebuild a little at a time."

He turns away so she doesn't see his smile. He picks up the nearest bottle of Perrier.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Where are my manners? Do you want anything?" It is not a lot he can offer at the moment, all disheveled and sweaty, running a now-insolvent company into the ground, but it is something.

"You have a panic attack and you're offering me water?"

"Not just water, but sparkling fancy water." He holds it out to her like a waiter, label turned up to face her and continues in his fake-snottiest voice. "The champagne for recovering alcoholics."

She presses her fingers to her lips and laughs, a lovely, musical sound. This is nice, he thinks. He wouldn't mind making her laugh more.

"Well, making jokes is good," she says. "Humor is widely regarded to be therapeutic."

"Sometimes," he says, smirking, "jokes were all I had." He raises a glass to her. "Laughter is the best medicine."

She takes the bottle from him, and continues to listen to him talk as he pours his own glass. She doesn't judge, but listens. When his turn to try to help her comes, all he can do is offer her a shamed apology that his company can no longer fund the Nurses' Ball.

Elizabeth is completely understanding. Far more than he deserves. This makes him want to be the hero. For her.

#

Keesha Ward.

She was beautiful. Kind, sweet, intelligent, funny. Watching her with Jason, it was crystal clear why Jason fell in love with her. Likely for the same reasons he fell in love with her from a distance.

There was a period of time during which he was able to get clean. He was on the city council, and Keesha was his girl. For the briefest of moments, he was truly happy.

Yet, he couldn't deal with the lies, the fear of failure… or the past. The car accident. The destruction of Jason Quartermaine. The coverup to protect all the family held dear.

When he was struggling, when he was nearing the bottom of his world, Keesha spoke to him, and her words stuck in his brain.

_"The best thing we can do is live up to ourselves."_

He'd never tell anyone, but those were words he lived by through all the stints in rehab. All his life, he had been trying to live up to the expectations laid upon his shoulders, the expectations he was assured never to reach.

During his time _away_, he learned to live up to his own potential.

He wished, so many times, that he could've gotten truly clean and sober, forever, for her. There was a moment, once he finally left Switzerland, where he told himself that, if he was able to build something with Michael, if he could finally prove to his family, and perhaps the rest of Port Charles, that he had changed, he would seek her out. He didn't know if it would go anywhere, but of all his former loves, she was the one who filled him the most with regret.

If it could lead to a renewal of their friendship, at the very least, he would be happy.

#

If it is possible to pinpoint the precise moment he realizes his feelings toward Elizabeth were more than simple friendship, it's while he watches her cook her Grams' famous Spaghetti Bolognese on Valentine's Day.

Perhaps he is feeling extra lonely tonight, with no one else to turn to, and with Aunt Tracy and Luke "Douchebag" Spencer crowding the mansion.

Except no. That isn't true.

Lately, he finds his brain mapping Elizabeth's face. He sees her beautiful eyes, the freckle on her lip. He remembers the way her hands felt on his chest as she listened to his heart during his attack, the way her gaze regarded him with concern and tenderness. The way her lips quirk upward in a smile so gentle and friendly, he has to look away.

How does a broken, middle-aged alcoholic find someone like her, rediscover her, the best friend of his little sister, so late in life?

Presently, he is studying the way she moves, spinning about gracefully in her kitchen, smiling at him while she lays some basic groundwork for a plan to bring Tracy into the ELQ fold. After Elizabeth explains her strategies for dealing with unruly children, they begin applying similar techniques to his issues with Tracy. Surprisingly, there isn't a whole lot of difference between disobedient kids and his aunt.

Well it isn't all that surprising.

"This is a little crazy," he says, squeezing a bit more lemon juice into his ice water and licking his fingers. "If I'd ask Michael, my mom, or Duke about this plan of yours, they'd all look at me like I lost my mind. But with you, you're so persuasive." He leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. "You really make me believe this could work."

Elizabeth laughs. "It might not. I'm telling you to use what I learned from being a mother and apply it to corporate politics. That might not be a recipe for success." She gives a little flourish with her wooden spoon.

He shrugs. "What the hell. It can't hurt to even try it, right? I mean, ELQ's kind of in the shitter right now and…" He winces and smacks his forehead, ignoring the fact that Elizabeth is outright laughing. He is horrified that he swore in front of her. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry. My language. I shouldn't be saying something like that in front of you."

"Don't worry about it. Cam and Aiden are in the other room. Swear away if you want."

He sits his glass on the counter and regards her warmly. Kindly. "My nanny and Mom would've shoved a bar of Irish Spring so far into my mouth for swearing in front of you, I can taste it right now." He makes a gagging sound.

"I'm not looking forward to the time when both of them," she says, nodding toward the boys' rooms, "start swearing up a storm. I keep expecting Cam to come home reeling off a list of choice words he learned during recess that day."

"Well, I promise you they won't learn any choice words from me… um, provided that you don't kick me out of your house after tonight."

He hates that, in Elizabeth's presence, he turns into a blushing teenage boy. Before everything happened, before he became the punchline of Port Charles, he knew how to talk to women. He could turn on the charm, pour on the compliments, and ride the Quartermaine gravy train into a bevy of dates and affairs that would've worn out an average man, whether he was on the wagon or off.

However, after the _away_ time, once he emerged sober, with a renewed commitment toward recovery, he found himself floundering with the fairer sex. He tried, a little, to socialize here and there, but it was always uncomfortable and unappealing, difficult without drink to hide all the insecurities and self-doubt. He could no longer act like the AJ Quartermaine of old. He had to find a new way to navigate his sober life.

Elizabeth smiles at him, head bowed just a little. "No one's getting kicked out tonight. No worries. As far as I'm concerned, you're always welcome here."

He tips his head up, barely, hoping he's not blushing. When he smiles at her again, he feels his heart stop, his breath come up a little short, and the pull of longing in his gut.

He knows he is already falling.

#

At first, it was about sex with Carly Benson. Then, it was about finding a friend.

She was like a wild animal when she blew into town, all claws and lashing out at anyone who'd dare get close. He was drunk, at Jake's, and he saw her as a chance to forget, for even a moment. When she said she was there to meet Jason...

_"It should've been me. Seeing him lying there, I can't help but think it should've been me. I'm the one who's always screwing up. Jason's got so much to live for."_

...he flashed back, for a moment, to standing by Jason's bedside, his little brother's head wrapped in bandages, suffering in a coma because of his own cowardly sins. He drank more to wipe the memory away.

He focused on the curvy, blonde, vulnerable woman gliding towards him with a desperate purr in her voice. Soon, they were talking, both at a table and in his bedroom.

Words rolled off his tongue. His only goal was to sweet talk her.

_"So beautiful… So sexy… I want you right now."_

As he kissed her skin, she tasted of salt and vodka and regret.

_Sex, sex, sex…_ it was all his brain can think of in the moment. Coax her into his bed, lay her down, love her body for one night. He needed to be filled again, with something of some substance and meaning, and from the looks of her, when he spoke to her in the bar, she looked like she needed the same.

Later, he was unable to remember what happened that night, and then she drugged him to make him permanently forget. However, if there was one truism about Port Charles, it was that, in this town, no secret ever truly remained a secret.

Out of so much ugliness, Michael was born. He loved him at once, once he knew the truth.

He saw a world of possibilities in his son. Sobriety and success, not just in business, but in being the kind of father to Michael that Alan could not be to him. He knew, deep down, that Alan loved him, but his father poured all his faults and mistakes into his eldest boy. Jason represented perfection, and he, imperfection.

He was given the chance to have the purest, unconditional love from this crying, chubby, swaddled bundle of joy, and he dared do nothing to destroy it.

#

"Sorry," she says through tears and a heavy voice. "I'm such a mess right now. You shouldn't see me like this."

They are sitting in the chapel of the hospital. The room is smoky from the burning wax of lit candles. His knees are slightly sore from kneeling at the altar with Elizabeth, praying to the higher power that Steven Lars will pull through. He owes the man, after all; without Steven Lars' help, he wouldn't be here today, sober and healthy and recovering.

He wouldn't have been strong enough for Elizabeth in her time of need.

He cannot believe Elizabeth is apologizing to him for crying on his shoulder. It is her brother who is in the OR, knife wounds tearing his guts. Gently, tremulously, he covers her small, slender hands with his own.

"You're worried about your brother, Elizabeth. You never have to apologize for that."

Absent-mindedly, she flips his hand over and strokes his palm. He suppresses any heat he feels as she looks at his hand; this is not the time or place for any of that.

He has her as his only friend, his sole confidant. Elizabeth has been there every time he needed to talk, every time he felt alone. He is determined to be her rock right now, in her time of need, and to not let these complicated feelings, this attraction he feels for her, interfere.

"What do I tell Cam and Aiden?" Tears are falling down her face, dropping to his skin. "What do I tell them if he…" She chokes before she can say the horrible thought.

"Elizabeth, don't think about that now. Steve's got a fighting chance upstairs. He's going to pull through. I have faith."

"But what if he doesn't." She is back to her doubts and fears again. She keeps cycling back to them, as if it is the only conceivable outcome of this tragedy. "People, they… th-they leave you, you know? No matter if they promise that they'll always be there for you." A sob escapes her throat and she presses her fingers to her lips. "All my sons have ever known are the men in their lives leaving them." Her eyes grow wild and she's staring past him, not at him. "I… I-I mean, it's my fault, you know. I drive them away. I make them leave, but Steve's the one man who has _always_ been there for them, who has stood by me with forgiveness and unconditional love, and he's…" She turns her watery blue eyes, filled with pain and doubt, upon him. It is as if she is pleading for him to give her answers that he cannot. "What do I tell them?"

He cannot take it, seeing her hurting like this, blaming herself. Firmly, but taking care not to hurt her, he takes her by the shoulders. "Elizabeth, don't do this to yourself. Do _not_ blame yourself for anything. Both you and Steve will get through this. I know it."

He feels his own faith wavering the moment the words leave his lips, but he is resolved not to let it show. Elizabeth needs his strength now, and he will give it to her, without reservation.

Steven Lars pulls through, and before she goes to visit her brother in recovery, Elizabeth thanks him, embraces him, tells him he made all the difference this horrible night. He warms at her gratitude.

When he's talking to Michael and Duke and Starr about their triumph over Tracy, his thoughts do not stray from Elizabeth. He cannot forget the things Elizabeth said in the chapel, the way she blamed herself for the men of her life leaving her.

_Just like you left her today, when she needed you the most._

He steals a moment back at the Quartermaine mansion to call her. Quietly, making sure no one is around to hear his conversation.

"Remember what we said. Anytime."

She says nothing on her end, but he can almost imagine her nodding in silence at his words. When he hangs up, he thinks about everyone who has left Elizabeth, who has abandoned her, and he hopes he is strong enough to stay.

#

It was an agenda at first with Courtney Matthews.

Screw over Sonny by screwing his sister. That was the best part of the whole thing. The only problem was that he had a soft spot for nice girls. And Courtney was - emphasis on _was_ - one of the nicest.

She gave him a chance when the entire town told her he was using her. She escaped with him to the Caribbean, marrying him on a whim. She stayed with him, even after he lost everything. All of that happening before they truly fell in love.

However, their life together lasted the span of a blink, a whisper. He lost his fortune, and his pride. She still fell in love with him anyway. He fucked up, and she paid for his mistakes with her body. He literally drove her into Jason's arms.

After it all collapsed, in one gigantic steaming pile, most of which was his own creation, he continued turning everything he touched into shit. ELQ, the Dead Man's Hand, embezzling from the family, kidnapping children… He didn't know at the time what drove his downward spiral so spectacularly. He laid blame at everyone's feet - Sonny and Carly were the worst of it.

Then there was Jason. The brother he both hurt beyond repair and loved with all of his heart. Every action put more distance between him and his brother, until he could no longer recognize himself. No longer see the love Jason used to have for him.

It broke his heart, and made him angry, and when AJ Quartermaine got angry, he lashed out.

After the first year of his treatment in Switzerland, he delved deep inside the messed up world of his psychoses. The mirror held up in front of him, he saw his fury reflected back. He had to let go if he ever wanted a future with his son, if he ever wanted a future at all.

#

So, it is all his fault, yet again.

What is it within him that, when things are going spectacularly well, makes him do something to screw it all up?

He stands, face-to-face with his son, and he tries to tell him "the truth" about him and his mother's… rekindled romance.

The thought nearly makes him vomit.

He cannot stop thinking about Elizabeth's face, the way her eyes, eyes which had always regarded him with warmth and compassion and caring, suddenly shutter off. She is cold, her stare sharp and unrelenting as she tells him she did show up, indeed.

He cannot help but think that there was something very _Jason Morgan_ in her glare. He wonders if she had ever stared at Jason this way. Had Jason ever disappointed her as he had?

He flashes back to that heart-pounding moment in front of Elizabeth just a couple of days ago, right before his words spill so awkwardly out of his mouth…

_"Do you want to do something sometime?"_

Elizabeth is in a hurry to go, to return to her brother's bedside so he can elope with the love of his life, but all he can think is _delay, delay, delay…_

He cannot stop looking at her, at her ruby red lips, her body wrapped in that daring, sexy dress. The moment he sees her freezes, like a picture, in his mind, and he knows what he wants to say, that she is beautiful.

His brain fails him. At least Michael is there to pick up the slack.

He is elated when she accepts his invitation. A date. After years and years of failure with love, Elizabeth Webber glides effortlessly into his life. He can treat her to a special night, something she truly deserves, and maybe the promise of something more, something better and brighter than anything he had in his old life in Port Charles…

Of course, all that is easier thought than done. He falls back into an old habit, concocting schemes. There is no excuse, really. Being the person least thought of in his family, when he sees an opening to take advantage of an opportunity, he just takes it, damn the likelihood of success, and damn the consequences.

Kissing his viper of an ex-wife to get under her skin for all the hell she gave him is worth it in some ways. He demeans her a little, insults her in front of the man she professes to love. He gives no fucks at all whether it hurt her or not, it is Carly after all, but he needs the information on the Quartermaine heir, and he needs it now. No telling when Aunt Tracy will make her move. He needs to stay several beats ahead of her.

It simply never dawns on him that Elizabeth could've seen it all. Maybe there is a part of him that expects her to stand him up. After all, he is AJ Quatermaine, scheming lowlife, the grand disappointment of Port Charles. Why would he think someone like Elizabeth Webber would be willing to be seen with him in public?

Yet, she does come, and he screws up in true AJ Quartermaine fashion. He is unable to put someone important to him above the all-encompassing goal of making himself a man Michael could be proud of.

That, also, blows up spectacularly in his face.

"What are you talking about?" his son asked him, hands on his hips, staring disbelievingly back at him.

He nearly chokes on his own words. "Y-your, your mother and I are back together… Michael." He barely whispers Michael's name, and it is through years and years of lying and cheating and conniving that he somehow manages to keep looking Michael in his eyes while not barfing up his breakfast.

Michael pulls in his mouth, takes a deep breath. "Yeah, no. How about you try again, but this time, cut the crap."

"This isn't a joke, Michael. We decided to give it another… try."

Michael turns around, walks around him. "So all that stuff you told me, about how Mom took me away from you, how she let Dad put you on a meathook, forcing you to sign away your rights, how she tore you down and ripped you apart for years-"

Everything his son says back to him hurts, stabs him directly in the chest. What the hell was he thinking? This was, while not the worst of his schemes, one of the stupidest and most short-sighted.

_Cockamamie._ The voice in his head sounds just like Grandfather. He can hear Grandmother Lila shaking her head and _tsking_ him, disappointed. Great.

"After all of that crap, you're saying you - you _and_ Mom - my mother, Carly Benson Quartermaine Corinthos Alcazar Jacks - are back together?"

He swallows. Michael's not buying it. Clearly. He has to keep up the ruse, or else he'd never get the Quartermaine heir. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying."

"And this whole 'I'm super excited about my date with Elizabeth' thing that you've been going off on for the past two nights, when you wouldn't shut up about her at dinner, at work, at the gym, that was… what? A lie or something? Were you using Elizabeth? Because, I've got to tell you, AJ, that's bush league. Her brother almost died, then he was arrested and carted off to jail, and now you pull this on her. She doesn't deserve that."

Shit.

He groans and hangs his head in his hands. He completely forgets about Steven Lars, and everything Elizabeth is going through right now.

Idiot.

He is such an idiot.

Honestly, he cannot blame Elizabeth for her reaction to him when she sees him, Spinelli, and Ellie Trout disembark from the hospital elevators.

Dr. Kevin Collins and Spinelli are having a conversation about God knows what, but he cannot tear his eyes away from Elizabeth. He pours all his regret and longing into his gaze and hopes she sees all of it, because right now, she looks like she wants to stab him in the kidneys.

It is like there is an impenetrable shield around her entire self, locking her away from him.

He tries, desperately, to talk to her, to explain. Just as he's about to get the words out, the worst timed phone call in the history of mankind interrupts.

"You better get that. Carly does _not_ like to be kept waiting."

As he storms over to Carly's hovel, he makes up his mind. This time, he will choose Elizabeth and the potential for something amazing, over his ex's poisonous schemes.

#

He does not know what is behind his compulsion to fall hard for Jason's women.

Keesha.

Carly.

Courtney.

_Elizabeth._

Was it a way to continually stick it to his brother? Or to prove that he was just as good as Jason is…

_Was._

He does not know the official _whys_ of his thinking. Maybe it's just that he and his brother have excellent tastes in women. He cannot say for sure, and the seven years away from Port Charles has not granted him any further insight. All he knows is that he kept doing it, over and over again. Expecting a different result each time, and every time, it always ends horribly bad wrong.

There is a small warning bell that goes off in his head, when he first figures out that he is developing deeper feelings for Elizabeth.

_She loved Jason._

_"The part of her heart that doesn't belong to Lucky, it belongs to Jason."_

Carly, that banshee. Her words cut him deep. Not that he'd ever show her; he cut her right back instead. However, what limited information he has about Elizabeth's past, he knows there is quite a bit of truth to Carly's statement about Elizabeth's heart. Lucky and Jason were...

_Are?_

…the two great loves of Elizabeth's life.

Of course, though, he is aware of Ric Lansing. She had also mentioned someone by the name of Ewen Keenan, a former psychiatrist at the hospital. She had dated him, briefly, before he went crazy and kidnapped her.

Thinking about it, he sees, Elizabeth's luck with men might top his own luck with women. What were they doing with each other, colliding into their lives, their hearts virtual trainwrecks?

Weren't they a pretty pair of lonely souls?

#

"Actually, Nikolas and I were more than friends, for a while."

Elizabeth and Nikolas Cassadine. Right. Okay. Keep in check, he tells himself.

She is in pain, tears thick in her eyes. She tells him that she is glad to see him, that he didn't have to come. A small part of him wishes he didn't; it hurts him to see her hurting, and he has been seeing a lot of that lately.

But he stays with her and lets her tell her story. The fear in her eyes, the caution in her voice as she tells him about her not-so-clean past. Her affair with Lucky's brother, Aiden's paternity, Helena Cassadine's involvement…

He does not judge. How could he? His crimes, his mistakes are so much worse. He cannot ignore the parallels, though. She gave her heart, and her body, to Lucky and Nikolas both, two brothers whose bond was thereafter permanently damaged.

Now, there is this _thing_ she has with him… and he is Jason's brother.

Jason is gone, dead, and he has to walk through the rest of his life living with his role in destroying what they once had. Elizabeth had no role in that, his relationship with his brother was long irreparable before she entered his life. He cannot ignore the importance of Jason to Elizabeth. He was one of the loves of her life; would she always compare him, compare them, to what she had with Jason? Could he handle it if she did?

Could he bear competing with a ghost? Not just any ghost, but the ghost of his perfect brother, the golden child.

All of his mistakes, all the things he did in his past seem to creep back up on him. He tries to break old habits, but cannot seem to stop. Does this make him crazy? Insane? Doing something over and over again like sharing the same women with his brother, falling in love with them, and somehow losing them and feeling, repeatedly, that acute pain and those lofty insecurities.

Does he expect a different result this time?

These thoughts run through his head, for a split second, for a moment. Then, reality sets in.

This is Elizabeth at her most honest; it has nothing to do with Jason. She has the same expression, the same gaze in her eyes that he has when confessing to a room full of anonymous strangers every bad awful thing he ever did as a drunk. She reveals her past relationship with Nikolas because she wants a clean slate with him. Nothing but the naked, God-honest truth.

It is a gift, he realizes. It is something new and different.

He will not squander that.

#

It is the morning after the Nurses Ball. He is in his bed at the mansion. He is awake, and he is not alone.

Elizabeth lays sleeping next to him, her hair still impeccably curled and wavy. She is clothed to perfection in his striped navy blue button-up and a pair of his boxers. He decides that she should go ahead and keep the shirt; seeing her in his clothes, he considers handing over his entire wardrobe to her.

Simply put, Elizabeth Webber wearing his shirts is the greatest thing he will ever witness, second only to holding Michael as a baby.

She stirs beside him, and he watches as a sleepy smile winds across her face. "Hi," she says in a happy whisper.

"Good morning, my queen." Opening her eyes, she catches his smile. He winks, and she snorts lazily at him. He wraps an arm over her reclined head, letting his fingers play with her curls.

Elizabeth blinks rapidly. "Morning? Oh my… it's the morning already?" She shoots up in bed and he laughs, his hand now smoothing the skin of her cheek. "I fell asleep in your bed?" She hides her face in her hands, laughing, likely out of embarrassment.

"Relax." He draws her closer to his chest. "We fell asleep after an epic conversation last night. Also," he says, biting his lip teasingly, "after a rather epic makeout session."

She pulls her hands down from her face, her eyebrow lifted, her smile daring. "It was pretty epic, wasn't it?"

He nods, his heart beating furiously. He cannot remember the last time waking up in bed like this, with a beautiful woman flirting back at him as she wears his shirts. Maybe Courtney was the last, but that whole thing was rather forgettable. Keesha, certainly, it happened with her. Yeah, he remembers. Keesha.

However, that was the past. This is the present.

He and Elizabeth didn't have sex, though he would have, in a heartbeat, if she wanted to. Despite that, there was something far more intimate about the night they shared together than the other nights he spent with other women.

They decided to take it slow. They were going to see each other, and each other alone, but start slowly and really get to know the other person. Instead of physical intimacy, they opted for emotional intimacy; they talked forever into the night. They kissed and cuddled and spooned. She was relaxed, at ease. Her sons with their Gram for the night, she was free to spend the rest of the evening with him.

Right as he heard her soft breathing, noting that she had fallen asleep, he stole a moment to whisper into a wisp of her auburn hair. His lips kissed the top of her head, and he told her, quietly, that he was falling for her.

He was convinced she didn't hear him. That was the whole point, after all, but he could not keep it inside any longer.

Now, here he was, holding Elizabeth Webber next to him, hearing her singsong laugh.

She throws her head back, and her hair spills over him, a soft waterfall. "I feel like we're doing something really bad, like I'm about to be caught by your mother or Alice or Michael."

"There is something very _high school_ about this, yeah." He lays back down, his side still facing Elizabeth. To his surprise, she climbs on top of him, her small hands warming his chest, her legs bracing the sides of his hips. She leans forward and meets his lips with hers.

"Something very… _naughty_," Elizabeth says, in between pecks. "Illicit." She kisses the corners of his mouth. "Dangerous. I'm like the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, who just spent the night with the big man on campus."

"No, you're very much from the right side of any track," he says through a grin, kissing her at the same time.

He lifts up, touching his forehead to hers, and pushes forward for a longer, lingering kiss. The pressure of her arms wrapping around his neck, of her slender body pressing down on top of his stirs things within him and he prays that she can't feel what's going on below his waist. He's wearing sweatpants and boxers, sure… but that does not ensure certain _activity_ will not go unnoticed.

The kiss grows more intense, more insistent. As his hands press her closer to him, as they roam over her curved back and thread through her hair, as he considers that this, probably, is the best morning wake up he has ever had, in the history of life itself, there is a very loud, very persistent knock at the door.

"AJ? Are you up? I thought I heard voices."

Elizabeth tears her face away from his, shocked. "Your _mother_ heard us?" Her head falls to his shoulder.

He groans, "God, maybe I should look into getting my own place."

The knocks grow more insistent. "AJ, who's in there with you?" He hears his mother trying the doorknob.

Elizabeth shoots off him, and starts grabbing her things haphazardly. "She's my boss. I can't have Monica see me like this!" She flaps her hand at her outfit, his boxers and shirt, all of it looking far sexier on her than it ever did on him.

"Elizabeth, we're both consenting adults. My mom really doesn't have any say over what goes on in here." He waves his finger around the room. He can't help but laugh at her. She's normally so unflappable, but right now, this is the most frantic he's ever seen her. "Besides, I see nothing wrong with the way you're dressed. You look like a knockout in my boxers." He puts his hands on her waist and gives her a quick peck on the lips.

She growls at him, shooting him a death glare as he snickers. Taking pity on her, he points to the room to his left. "The bathroom's thataway."

She makes her escape as he puts on a white undershirt and opens the door to greet his mother.

Monica Quartermaine stands, with her arms folded together. "Well, that took you long enough. What is going on?" She tries to take a step inside his room, but he blocks her from entering.

"Good morning, Mother." His voice is chipper, which is to be expected. Last night's Nurses Ball, and the night with Elizabeth have put him in a fantastic mood. "What brings you to this neck of the mansion?"

Monica tries to peek around him. When he doesn't let her by, she stares at him with narrowed eyes, but her lips are pressed tightly together, as if trying to suppress a smile. Her eyes have a knowing glint. "Okay, who is she? And _where_ is she?"

Hoping that he's not blushing, he crosses his arms and remains standing tall. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

"AJ, you are a grown man, and you're free to bring whomever you want back to the house. Now, if you have a special visitor, I'd like to meet her. Unless I already _know_ her, and then I can greet her properly as a guest, give her a hug, and tell her to come downstairs for breakfast."

He smiles and winces at the allusion that she already knows who is in the room with him, and that she suspects, likely, that it is Elizabeth. If there is ever a moment he wishes Monica would back off of her maternal instincts, now would be that time.

"Mom, you're hearing things, okay? I'm all by my lonesome up here. Now," he says, with a gentle push to urge her further into the hallway, "can you go downstairs and get Alice to bring up some breakfast for me? I'm still wiped out from last night."

She eyes him suspiciously. "I don't know about that. You seem awfully bright eyed this morning for someone who claims they are 'wiped out.'"

He is just about to dismiss her with a reminder for that breakfast, when a _THWUNK_ echoes from the bathroom, followed by a pain-filled "Ow!". Followed by a very loud, very adorable, "Dammit!"

Monica stares at him with an arched brow. "You're 'all by your lonesome'?"

He winces and lets her pass into his room just as the door to the bathroom opens. A very sheepish-looking Elizabeth Webber trots out slowly, awkwardly, with a slight limp. She is wearing a rather hilarious ensemble consisting of her dress from the ball last night, covered by his striped shirt, which is knotted in the middle. Her hair is loose and wild, falling all around her with abandon, and she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

Also, judging by the way her cheeks are reddening, the most embarrassed woman he has ever seen.

"Hi, Monica." She smiles as if her teeth all hurt. He goes around to stand by her, arm around her shoulders, drawing her as close to him as he can. "Monica, look… I want you to know that I just fell asleep here. We… we were talking, AJ and I were, last night and he lent me this shirt and I fell asleep on his bed, but nothing else happened, and then I dropped a really heavy soap dispenser on my toe, which is probably sprained or broken, and... I-I should probably go now."

He is shocked that she gets all of that out in one breath.

"Elizabeth, please. You are always welcome here." Monica reaches out for the younger woman and embraces her. Elizabeth returns the embrace somewhat nervously, with a couple of shaky pats to his mother's back. Monica pulls away first, but keeps a hold of Elizabeth's shoulders. "I take it this means you two are together now?"

He looks down at Elizabeth, and she looks up at him. They meet his mother's eyes with similar lopsided grins. Monica claps her hands excitedly, and he, once again, groans at his mother's over-the-top reaction. He decides he is going house hunting later that day.

"This is wonderful! I was so hoping that AJ would find a special girl who would give him a chance and see what an amazing man he's capable of being!" To his horror, Monica grabs a hold of Elizabeth's face. Almost afraid that his mother will drag Elizabeth to her and kiss her herself, they are interrupted by scurrying footfalls.

"Hey, guys. I've been looking all over for you. Alice let me in."

It is Michael, right outside in the hallway. Great. Just great. He rubs his eyes, tired and completely embarrassed that Elizabeth's first night with him, as innocent as it could possibly be, ends in front of an unintended audience.

"In here, Michael."

His son pops his head from behind the door. "Hey, AJ. I've been looking for-" He stops talking the minute he sees Monica beaming and Elizabeth waving, her slender hand bending slowly, trying to be civil enough to mask her obvious mortification.

"Oh. Hey, Elizabeth." Michael's eyes travel from Elizabeth to him and back to Elizabeth again. The grin that spreads across his son's face sends a chill through him; it reminds him of himself, whenever Jason or Brenda or Lois or Robin did something that had to be made fun of.

"Hi, Michael," she replies, and abruptly turns around and taps her head against his chest. He sends a warning glance to his son, who, thankfully, does not say a word, but he does send him a cheeky wink.

"My God, but sometimes, it really is like looking in a mirror." Monica interjects, heading ping-ponging back and forth between her son and her grandson.

"Look, I want to get started on the day, and Alice has set out a pretty nice spread downstairs. She asked me to see what the hold up was. So are we all heading down for breakfast?" Michael steps aside and holds his hand out toward the hallway. "Ladies first." He grins broadly at Elizabeth, who follows Monica out the door.

Elizabeth flashes him a crooked smile over her shoulder as she disappears down the stairs.

He passes by Michael, who waggles his eyebrow. He points a scolding finger at the younger man.

"Not _one_ word."

Michael's hands fly up in surrender. "All I was going to say was I'm glad you two had fun last night. Apparently, a lot of fun."

He waits until the women are further down the stairs from them. "It's not like that."

"Uh-huh."

He glares at his son. "We just talked last night after the ball. Elizabeth fell asleep over here, and I didn't want to disturb her."

Patting him on the shoulder, Michael gives him a huge smile. "I don't need details or anything, but, just so we're clear, I do approve."

Now, he can feel warmth bloom in his face. "Well, thanks. That I do appreciate."

They make their way to the dining room, where Alice has laid out quite the spread. Even in Cook's absence, she manages to scrape together something amazing. The formidable housekeeper is already showing Elizabeth and Monica what dishes have been prepared for the morning.

"Croissants and rolls are in the baskets, and we have two different fritattas to choose from - Mediterranean vegetable and ham, sweet onion and gruyere. We also have a spinach and bacon soufflé. There's applewood smoked bacon, organic of course, and a seasonal fruit salad. Miss Elizabeth, would you like something to drink? We have an assortment of freshly squeezed juices, tap and sparkling water, or, if you prefer a slight kick to start your day, a mimosa, perhaps?"

Alice seems unusually excited to serve a new member of the party. Elizabeth shakes her head and meets his eyes.

"I'd better not."

"Elizabeth, if you want the mimosa, please get one." He smiles broadly at her. "Don't deny yourself something on my account."

She turns back to Alice. "An orange juice and sparkling water will be perfect, Alice. Thank you."

The housekeeper leans forward and whispers. "Just wanted to tell you it's so nice to have you back here, Miss Elizabeth. I've missed seeing your friendly face around this house."

"After last night, I think it's likely she'll be around here a lot," comes Michael's teasing reply. Elizabeth blushes, and he whacks his son against the back of his head. Michael covers his surprised grunt with a cough.

They sit and place their orders and eat, the conversation flowing nonstop. Tracy is not in this morning, and for that, he is grateful. There are no insults or razor-sharp barbs aimed at him or Michael or Elizabeth; it is simply pleasant banter and jokes with the occasional business mixed in. Monica and Elizabeth talk about the hospital, and he and Michael talk ELQ.

He reaches for her hand underneath the table. He takes it and gives her a little squeeze. She squeezes his in return. In just that small gesture, everything feels good, and right.

He thinks that, despite the past, despite all the things that tell him they shouldn't work, that maybe, this time, they will.


End file.
